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Twelve days after the he nearly died in an explosion, six days after he woke up, four days after he was fired (permanently, this time), and three days after the last time he saw his (probably soon-to-be-former) adoptive father, Jason hears a knock at the door. It’s decidedly not Alfred’s polite tap, or Bruce’s efficient knock. It’s not even Bruce’s tentative I-don’t-know-what-I’m-doing knock. And even with his hearing on the fritz from the bomb, Jason thinks he would’ve been able to recognize Bruce’s footsteps.
“Come in,” Jason says. And then, on the off chance that he did somehow miss Bruce’s footsteps, he adds, “As long as you’re not Bruce!”
The door opens to reveal Dick Grayson with a cast on one leg and a cane in one hand. “Well,” he says. “I’m definitely not Bruce.”
Jason hasn’t seen Dick in months. That fucker had ignored every single one of his calls. So what is he doing here now, with the fakest smile Jason has ever seen written across his face? “Why are you here?”
Dick looks around the room, before zeroing in on Jason’s bags. Already, Jason has been packing them to the best of his ability. He’s been fired, after all, and unlike what he heard Bruce discussing with Alfred, this time is permanent. Go to retirement, go directly to retirement, do not pass Go, do not collect your adoption certificate. Jason knows how this works. Except this time, he won’t go flying off to another continent.
“We’re leaving,” Dick announces.
Jason doesn’t have anything against this statement, in theory. He’s leaving. Dick, apparently, is leaving, despite presumably having just got here (unless he’s been here for days but, like Bruce, has been avoiding Jason in favor of brooding). It sounds like Dick is offering to allow Jason to come with him, which at least means a ride to somewhere that’s not the Manor and might even include the option to stay with him for a couple of days. Dick looks nowhere near as beat-up as Jason is, but that cast will certainly put a damper on his activities as Nightwing. That might give him some extra time to deal with Jason.
In practice, however, Dick has just come waltzing into his room after completely ghosting him and then unilaterally announced that Jason would be going with him.
“You,” Jason says, “didn’t answer my calls.”
Dick’s smile drops clean off his face. “I was in space,” he says after a moment. “I didn’t have any reception. I got back to Earth and Danny told me you’d died.”
Jason considers that. It makes sense. Dick had promised to answer his calls, and then he hadn’t. Dick wouldn’t break a promise just because he felt like it—he’d only break it because he couldn’t keep it. And hey, being in space is a pretty good excuse. A pretty cool one, too. “You got to go to space?” Jason asks. “What was it like? Did you go to another planet? Did you travel faster than lightspeed? Did it feel weird? Did you meet any aliens? Other than Starfire, ‘cos you already met her.”
Jason stops abruptly. Dick looks like he’s carefully trying to piece his smile back together and not quite managing it. Normally, Dick’s happy to answer all of Jason’s questions. But maybe Jason messed it up this time, somehow. Maybe he—
“Are you okay?” Jason asks.
“I’m fine,” Dick says, giving Jason a pained smile. As in, it looks like the smile is genuinely causing Dick pain. “Let’s just go. I’ll grab your stuff.” Jason looks pointedly at Dick’s cast and cane. Dick grimaces. “I’ll ask Alfred to grab your stuff.” He pauses, as if considering something. “Actually, let’s just take what you need right now. Overnight bag, anything you really care about. We’ll deal with later…later.”
That doesn’t make sense. Either Jason is leaving now or he’s not. “What about the rest of it?”
“Alfred will bring it. If necessary. Or I’ll—or. I’ll come and get. Yeah, Alfred will bring it. Or you’ll get it. We’ll see.” Dick runs a hand through his hair, looking like he’d give anything to be able to pace the room right now. “We should go, though.”
Jason is beginning to suspect there’s something Dick isn’t telling him. But, well, Jason asks him for an identification code as he gently places a picture of his mom into his backpack, careful of all of his splinted fingers, and Dick rattles it off perfectly. This is Dick. Whatever he’s not telling Jason, it’s not intended it hurt him.
They leave the Manor surprisingly quickly, considering that the two of them are hobbling the entire way. Dick is surprisingly good at maneuvering with his broken leg, and Jason remembers now that had had several similar injuries during his Robin career.
“Are you sure you can drive like this?” Jason asks, climbing into the passenger seat of Dick’s bright red car.
“I drove here,” Dick says. “You drive with your right foot. It’s my left leg that’s broken.” He pauses. “Look, I’m sorry I didn’t ask this earlier, but…are you actually okay to be moved right now?”
“I’m fine,” Jason says. He’s pretty sure he’s fine. Alfred hadn’t said anything about no car rides, and although he suspects that was because Alfred had no reason to believe that such a situation would even come up, he feels okay sitting in the car seat. “Let’s get out of here.”
Dick’s hands tense on the wheel, and he turns to Jason, studying him. “Any reason why you’re so eager to leave?” His voice is casual. Too casual.
Jason isn’t…eager, exactly. He doesn’t want to leave Wayne Manor and Bruce and Alfred. But he really doesn’t have a choice, and better sooner rather than later. “I was fired,” Jason admits. “I’m not Robin anymore.”
“Right,” Dick says. “He told me he did that.”
“Told you?” It makes sense, though, now that Jason thinks about it. Dick would have talked to Bruce before coming up to take Jason away. He couldn’t have known for sure that Jason was fired otherwise.
“Yeah,” Dick says. “Bruce told me a lot of things.” He takes a breath in, then exhales. “So, Bruce fired you and you figured you’d emulate me and do a runner?”
“I’m not running,” Jason protests. “I’m not Robin anymore. So I’m leaving. I know better than to stay where I’m not wanted.”
Dick searches Jason’s face for something. Whatever it is, Jason doesn’t think he finds it. “Okay,” Dick says. He checks the mirrors and begins to drive down Wayne Manor’s long driveway.
The drive is long. Dick doesn’t talk much, a rarity, and instead turns on the radio. Jason slumps in his seat, looks out his window, and tries not to think about how his pain medication is wearing off.
After about half an hour, Dick turns to Jason and says, “I don’t resent you, you know.”
“What?” Jason asks, still looking out the window.
“I don’t resent that you were adopted.”
“Okay?” Jason says. He didn’t think Dick did resent that. Not anymore, at least. He thought Dick was angry at him at first, but that had seemed to quickly disappear and Dick had started accepting him as a brother soon enough.
“I don’t,” Dick insists. “It’s fine with me.”
“Yeah, I figured…” Jason says. He turns to look at Dick, and immediately finds his attention caught by the lurid bruise spreading across his brother’s face. “What’s that?”
Dick blinks. “What’s what?”
“On your face. Was it from fighting aliens?”
Dick’s hands tighten around the steering wheel. “Yeah,” he says, a moment too late. By then, Jason has realized that it wouldn’t make any sense, if it was from fighting aliens. Because Dick hadn’t had that bruise half an hour ago, but he had certainly had enough time to get a cast on his leg and take a spaceflight all the way back to Earth. Got that from fighting aliens. Yeah, right.
“You’re lying to me,” Jason says.
Dick taps the steering wheel, like he’s trying to think—like he’s trying to think of an excuse. “Let’s just get to New York,” he says after a moment.
There are only a few reasons why Dick would be lying to him about this. And sitting in the car as they make their abrupt departure from Wayne Manor, Jason is pretty sure which one of them it is. “Okay,” Jason says quietly.
He feels faintly queasy, and it’s so stupid, because what does it even matter? What does it matter if Bruce hit Jason’s adoptive brother hard enough for it to bruise like that? They’re leaving anyway. Bruce is probably going to find some way to rescind the adoption papers. Jason is never going back to Wayne Manor.
Twenty minutes later, Dick pulls over. They sit there for a bit, Dick staring forward with his grip tight on the steering wheel and Jason in the passenger seat, squinting at him.
“This was a mistake,” Dick says eventually. “We should go back. To the Manor.”
“What.”
“We should go back,” Dick repeats. “I’m being stupid.” The bruise on his cheek is still growing. In Jason’s opinion, going back would be stupid.
“No,” Jason says.
“This is technically kidnapping. I’m technically kidnapping you, Jason. I thought…but it was so stupid. You’ll be fine. At the Manor. You’ll be—” He says it like he’s trying to convince himself. He doesn’t sound convinced.
Jason definitely isn’t convinced. “I don’t wanna go back to the Manor. Bruce hit you.”
“He…” Dick looks like he wants to bang his head against the steering wheel, but he doesn’t deny it. “You’ll be fine,” he repeats. “We fought. I said—it doesn’t matter. Well, it does, but you don’t need to hear it. I said some nasty things. So he…yeah. And then I panicked and got you and left, but you’re his son, Jason. You should be with your father.”
Jason winces at that. If he was Bruce’s son, Bruce would’ve come searching for him rather than the Joker. At the very least, he would’ve graced Jason with his presence other than a brief shouting match ending in his firing. “I don’t want a father who hits his son,” Jason says.
“It’s not like that,” Dick replies.
“He ever done this before?”
“Not really.”
“What does ‘not really’ mean?”
“It means not really,” Dick says. “Now, let’s go back. Maybe if we’re lucky Bruce hasn’t emerged from the Cave yet, huh? Won’t have even realized we were gone. But if he has, I figure he’ll give us some leeway if we apologize, right? Considering.” He gives Jason that same overly cheerful smile he wore when he opened Jason’s door earlier that day. It looks like it’s even more painful now.
He’s really going to do it. Dick is really going to drive right back there and drop Jason off with Bruce. Maybe even stay himself. Apologize to his father, who just hit him. Jason can’t believe it. Isn’t he mad?
“No,” Jason says. “We’re not going back.”
“Well, it’s my car,” Dick says. “And I say we are.”
“What if I said he hit me?” Jason asks. “Would you care then?” Because an hour ago, Dick had believed that Jason was unsafe in that house. That’s why he’d basically performed a speedy extraction. But now, he was going to bring Jason back. Surely he didn’t stop caring.
“…did he?” Dick asks, turning fully to Jason and trying to look him in the eyes. He looks genuinely concerned.
Jason considers lying. If he lies, he thinks Dick would drive them all the way to New York. He doesn’t lie. “No,” he admits. “But if you bring me back, it’s not gonna do me any good. Like I said, Dick, Bruce fired me. I’m out. So let’s—let’s go to Titans Tower.” Jason looks away. “If you could let me stay a little, just until I can maybe move around better with crutches, that would…help a lot. Then I’ll be outta your hair.”
Dick considers that. “Okay,” he says. “But you don’t have to get ‘outta my hair.’ If you want to stay, you can. There’s room at the Tower, and…we could always use another member.”
Jason’s head whips around. “Really?” he asks, voice small. He didn’t think Dick would want him around, indefinitely. But if he could join the Titans, could have somewhere to stay, could be a hero…
“Yeah,” Dick says. “If you don’t want to go back.”
“I don’t,” Jason says quickly. “I want to stay with you and the Titans.”
“You might change your mind.”
Jason’s eyes flicker down to the bruise on Dick’s cheek. He remembers Bruce telling him that he wasn’t there for Jason, that he was just looking for the Joker. He thinks of how Bruce ripped Robin away from him, even though that was literally why he left the first time. He can’t imagine going back. “I won’t.”
For a week, it’s good. Dick sets Jason up with a room in Titans Tower, and they begin their recoveries. Jason spends most of the day lying in bed, while Dick is almost as mobile as he is without a broken leg, but Dick comes over to talk to him pretty often. And when Dick’s not there, he has the books that Raven got for him, and Danny Chase is always hanging around.
Danny’s unusually smug right now—which is saying something—because Dick has apparently apologized to him for something, and therefore Dick “owes him one” (according to Danny). But he’s the closest one to Jason’s age here. Plus, he’s smart and quick to banter. And Danny seems to be happy to have another kid around who’s not constantly arguing with him.
When the pain from Jason’s injuries gets bad, Gar’s always quick with a distraction. Donna tells him about embarrassing stories from Dick’s time on the original Teen Titans. Kory is…scary…but awesome. Victor teaches Jason hacking techniques that Bruce didn’t know existed and lets him in on some basic digital work he can do to stop feeling so useless when he lies in bed. Joey tells him about how painting helps him when he’s feeling upset—and Jason definitely feels upset.
He and Dick have talked. They’ve talked about Shiela and the Joker and the bomb. But they haven’t talked about Bruce, not really. And they haven’t talked about the future.
The thing is, Dick seems to be assuming that Jason will go back. But Jason won’t. So if he’s staying here, he needs to get registered for school, needs to figure out if he’ll require a new alias or can keep using Robin as long as he’s not in Gotham, needs to make plans. Dick just keeps telling him to take everything one day at a time—while assuring Jason that he’s welcome here every time he offers to leave.
But still. It’s good.
And then Danny knocks on the door while Dick is interrogating Jason about his favorite foods. Danny doesn’t wait for a response before flinging the door open. “Batman’s here,” he announces. He looks excited.
“Fuck,” Jason says. That’s the other reason Danny spends so much time with Jason—Jason is willing to curse around him.
“Yeah,” Dick agrees. “That’s the sentiment.” He sighs, standing up. “I’ll go talk to him.”
Jason, with a lot more difficulty, stands up too. “Like hell am I letting you go there alone. You need backup.”
“What I don’t need is you starting a fight,” Dick says pointedly.
“Why would you be starting a fight with Batman?” Danny asks. “Did you run away from home? Sick!”
“Get out of here, Danny,” Dick says.
“But you owe—”
“Get. Out.” Dick pauses. “Please. This is…do you remember what we talked about? When I apologized?” Danny nods and reluctantly leaves Dick and Jason alone in the room. “Look, Jason, I’ll talk to him.”
“You’re gonna apologize to him or something.”
Dick clenches his fists. “I’m not going to apologize to him. Okay? I’m mad at him too. But unlike you, I don’t plan to start any more fights. We have to figure this,” he waves his hand in a vague gesture, “whole situation out.”
“This whole situation being me staying here.”
“Or going—”
“I’m not going back,” Jason says. “And I’m not the one who had the biggest fight with him recently, am I?”
Dick winces. It’s a low blow, and Jason kinda regrets it, but he also kinda doesn’t. It doesn’t make any sense, Dick thinking he’d be any better at preventing a confrontation with Bruce than Jason. “Yeah, well, I still don’t want you fighting with Bruce.”
Jason narrows his eyes at Dick. The second he heard that Bruce was here, he felt the anxiety hit him, wriggling in his stomach and twisting vines around his lungs. He thinks Dick probably feels the same. Dick’s jaw is green and yellow, not yet even beginning to fade. His whole body is tense, his shoulders rigid and posture stiff. Jason remembers Dick telling him that they were leaving Wayne Manor, smiling so that he wouldn’t betray his fear. Dick didn’t take Jason out of Wayne Manor because he thought he needed a break or a change of scenery. “You’re not worried about me ruining your civil conversation with Bruce. You’re worried about him hurting me, because he hurt you.”
Dick, somehow, gets even tenser. He opens his mouth and closes it, clearly unsure what to say. A week of talking around it, and he already seems surprised when Jason says it plainly. “That’s not what I said.”
“Sure,” Jason says. “But it’s what you were thinking. And hey, maybe that’s fair. But right back at’cha, Dick. I don’t want him hurting you either.” He can’t cross his arms, but he can put his right hand on his—sore—hip. That’s as close to standoffish as his injuries will allow. “Batman’s waiting. We talk to him together, or I’m gonna have to tell the Titans that there’s currently a threat in the tower.”
“You wouldn’t,” Dick hisses.
“I would,” Jason says, heart beating quickly as he stares Dick down. He can tell that Dick doesn’t think he’s serious. But Jason would. If Dick doesn’t want to talk about what happened with the other Titans, fine. That’s not Jason’s business. He already knows everything he needs to know. But if Dick is going to treat Bruce like a threat… “Hey, Dickhead, what does ‘not really’ mean?”
“Not really?” Dick echoes, tilting his head.
“Yeah, in the car, I asked if Bruce had done this before. And you said ‘not really.’ What’s that mean?”
Dick looks away alarmingly quickly. “Fine. We’ll talk to him together. But you stay back, alright?”
“Alright,” Jason agrees. He mostly wants to be there for damage control—and to stick up for his brother. He doesn’t plan on attacking Bruce.
Slowly, Jason on his crutches and Dick with his cane, the two go down to the bottom floor of the tower, where Batman is waiting. Jason has had a week to get used to the shiny, sterile design of Titans Tower’s non-residential areas, but it still makes Batman seem even more imposing. Sure, he’s not looming in the shadows, but that also means there’s nowhere to hide.
Dick gestures to a cushioned Titans-branded seat, and Jason sits, glaring at Bruce.
“The Titans already know who we are,” Dick says. “So you can take off the mask, Bruce.”
There’s a long pause. And then, slowly, Bruce removes his cowl.
He looks tired, is the first thing Jason thinks. The bags under his eyes are obvious, as is the exhaustion in his expression. Jason wonders if Brucie Wayne has made any public appearances recently, because if he went out like this, the papers would talk. For a moment, Jason feels bad for him. And then that feeling flees, leaving behind only anger. How dare Bruce show up at Titans Tower like he has a right to be here? He didn’t even call ahead. This place is where Dick lives. Bruce made it so that Dick can’t be at the Manor, and now he shows up at Dick’s home? Bastard.
Bruce reaches into his utility belt. For a moment, Dick tenses, but all Bruce takes out is a single key.
Bruce steps forward, not quite into reach but close enough that Dick could close the distance with only a single step, and holds out the key in his right hand. Some sort of understanding appears to pass between him and Dick. Dick looks away and doesn’t take the key.
“What are you doing here?” Dick asks.
“I am here to speak with you,” Bruce says, his eyes fixed on the bruise on Dick’s face, “and am here to see my son.”
Jason startles at that. My son. “Your son,” he says. “I’m not your son, Bruce.”
Bruce’s left hand curls into a fist. Jason’s eyes dart to it immediately. Bruce’s hand relaxes. When Jason looks over at Dick, his brother is still watching it. “Fine. But I came to see you. You just disappeared. No note. Alfred just comes to me and tells me that you’re gone. I only knew Dick was with you because of the Manor’s security systems. I…worried.”
Like he had a right to worry. “You fired me.”
“Is that the only reason you’d stay? Robin?”
Jason gives a shrug with his less injured shoulder. “Only reason you’d keep me around.”
“No,” Bruce says immediately. “I never meant for you to leave, Jason. I just wanted you to be safe.”
Jason looks at the hand still holding the key. He doesn’t know what it means, but he knows that Dick hasn’t taken it, despite it being offered. “Safe. Did you want Dick to be safe?”
Bruce’s face closes off. “What has—”
“Let’s not,” Dick says diplomatically. “Okay? Let’s just not. You’ve seen Jason. He’s alright. You’ve talked to me. So I think you should leave now.”
“Is Jason packed?” Bruce asks. Dick stares at him in silence, an expression of bewilderment on his face. Like he can’t believe Bruce is asking that, after he just told Bruce that Jason is fine and he should leave.
“I’m not going—” Jason begins, only to be interrupted by Dick interposing himself between Jason and Bruce.
“Jason’s not going back,” Dick says. He shifts so that Bruce can’t even see Jason, as if he’s trying to direct any resulting anger at himself.
And Dick, this whole time, has been talking like Jason is going back to the Manor. Like he’s going back to Bruce. But watching the way Dick stands—like he’s trying to protect Jason, protect him from Bruce—Jason doesn’t think that was ever really in the cards. Dick might’ve been trying to convince himself it would be fine, but he doesn’t believe it. And, well, Jason can’t really believe it either.
“He’s injured,” Bruce says. “Jason needs to come home.”
“Titans Tower has great medical care,” Dick argues.
“He’s been through something traumatic,” Bruce says. “Jason needs his father.”
“And where was his father, huh?” Dick asks. And then he’s hobbling forward, pointing a finger at Bruce’s chest. “When I got there, you’d spoken to him once, and that was to fire him. He thought you didn’t want him anymore. Jason needs somewhere he actually feels wanted.”
Bruce leans in. His eyes are angry. Not the cold, solid anger of the day he fired Jason, but a strange, wild sort of anger. Like he’s seeing the explosion again and again. Like he isn’t really here at all. And Dick doesn’t back down. A minute ago, he was wary, maybe even afraid. But now he’s fighting, and there’s no room for fear in a fight. And if this is a fight—
Jason’s heart begins to beat faster. He needs to get up and intervene, needs to stop this. But he’s glued to his chair.
“This isn’t about you, Dick,” Bruce insists. His hands are in fists. The key is nowhere to be found. “You’re still angry that I fired you, is that it? We’ve been over this before and you’ve made your opinions clear! But just because you left the second I set some boundaries doesn’t mean that Jason is the—”
“Jason,” Jason says, “is right here.”
Bruce’s head whips around to him. Jason cringes away under the force of his anger, even as Bruce seems to be fighting to push it back down.
“Hey,” Dick says, leaning to the side to look Bruce in the eyes. “Look at me.”
“No, stop it,” Jason says. “I’m right here, so—”
“You look at me—”
“I don’t—”
“—get away from—”
“—will just listen—”
“—don’t get to talk to him—”
“—best for Jason—”
Jason knows how things went last time Bruce and Dick fought. And maybe he was here for damage control, but he refuses to be damage control this time. Not when he’s right here, watching the scene play out right before his eyes.
He stands up on his crutches. Takes a step forward. Then another. Dick is so focused on trying to draw Bruce’s attention that he doesn’t even notice when Jason lifts one of his crutches off the ground, winds up, and slams it into Bruce’s side.
Bruce, startled, staggers back. Jason loses his balance and topples over, but Dick catches him before he hits the ground, setting him back on his feet.
For a moment, Bruce’s eyes widen. And then he’s stepping further back, expression closing off.
There’s a dull clink! as the key drops from Bruce’s now-open fist and hits the floor.
“I’m not going back with you,” Jason says. His shoulder aches, and every few seconds pain shoots through it. He shouldn’t have swung his crutch like that. His body wasn’t healed enough. But he doesn’t regret it. “I got hurt, Bruce. On the job, trying to save someone. That’s what happens! But then you don’t talk to me, until suddenly you’re telling me I’m not good enough. That I’m out. And then it’s back to the silent treatment from you, while I’m just lying there, waiting until I’m healed enough for you to kick me out. You didn’t even ask me if I wanted to go to my mom’s fucking funeral!”
Bruce is watching him silently, his arms hanging limply at his sides. Jason’s chest heaves as he tries to regain his breath.
“And then you hurt my brother. So Dick takes me here. Where it’s safe. And it’s great. We’re doing great, until you come along, until you waltz right into Dick’s home and just expect, what, that he’ll be happy to see you? Do you really think I’m that much of a problem, that he’d be happy to be rid of me?”
“I don’t think—”
“Shut up!” Jason shouts. “I’m staying here, and I’m not going back with you, and you’re gonna accept that or I’m going to tell Starfire and Troia exactly what you did.”
“Who’s Troia?” Bruce shakes his head. “That doesn’t matter. Jason, I didn’t mean to—"
“You fired me,” Jason continues. “I don’t work with Batman anymore. Fine. Great. So why are you still here?” He turns away. “I don’t even wanna look at you, Bruce. Just—” His shoulders shudder. It’s then that he realizes his face is wet. “Just go away. Please just go away.” A tear drips down from his eye.
Dick’s arms wrap around him gently, pulling him closer. Jason curls into him, hiding his face.
When he finally looks up, Batman is gone.
“Ready?” Dick asks, smiling.
Jason nods. He’s spent a month getting back into shape. Dick wouldn’t even let Jason start training until he had the approval of his physical therapist. (Well, not necessarily the approval for Robin training, but approval for his only semi-fictional parkour hobby.) But finally, he’s ready to be Robin again.
Dick had brought him suggestion after suggestion, even said they could talk to Superman for inspiration, like Dick had when they created Nightwing. Jason had refused them all.
“I want to be Robin,” he’d said eventually. Because Robin, despite everything, was still magic. And if Jason wanted to do this, wanted to come back from the injuries the Joker gave him and operate in a whole new city and stand up to the Batman himself, he would need a little bit of magic. “Is that okay?”
“Bruce…Bruce fired you,” Dick reminded him.
“Yeah, but who cares what he thinks?” Jason said. “I care what you think. You made Robin. Robin is yours. So. I want to be Robin.”
“Okay,” Dick replied. “Then you’ll be Robin.”
“Alright, Robin,” Dick says. “We’re going to take it easy. A quick patrol, stop a few muggers, let everyone know Robin’s found a new roost.”
“Got it,” Jason says, checking his bat-rope’s anchor to his utility belt one last time.
And then, Dick grins. “Race you to the Empire State Building?” He’s gone before Jason can reply.
“You’re on!” Jason shouts. Steeling himself, he leaps off the roof of Titans Tower.
Robin spreads his wings and flies.